


i want the entire street out of town

by emiparade



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 22:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emiparade/pseuds/emiparade
Summary: Cartman & Kyle end up the only South Park kids at the same university, far away from home, and it unsurprisingly enough brings them closer together.





	i want the entire street out of town

“I got my acceptance letter at UO!”

 

Kyle knows that Stan already knows—of course he knows, he had already texted him the day before after school when he had opened the mailbox—but Stan smiles, gives him the sense of pride from announcing it out loud, standing in a huddle in the courtyard of their high school.

 

There’s a bout of congratulations from Stan and Kenny, and a shiteating grin from Cartman.

 

“UO, huh?” He says it like he’s in on a joke Kyle isn’t. “I just so happened to get my acceptance letter from them last night, too.”

 

Kyle deflated instantly, brow furrowing in shock and voice breaking, “Are you fucking with me?”

 

Cartman was not fucking with him.

 

The spring melted into summer and with the arrival of fall, Kyle and Cartman joined the population of the freshman class at the University of Oregon.

 

There was a form where new students could request dorm assignments with their friends. Kyle didn't touch it.

 

Cartman had been his friend since he could remember, but it was always that sort of small town friendship where they ended up thrown together just out of proximity without any real regard for how well they actually got along—and that had been apparent the last 18 years, from how tumultuous the relationship had been. He didn't really have anything in common with Cartman beyond hobbies any teenage boy would have, the guy was always getting him into trouble, and he had always pushed his buttons like nobody’s business. It wasn’t like Stan or Kenny, who he could imagine befriending in a sea of people. With Cartman it was kind of like… They were both just there.

 

He assumed the other was probably as eager to get a new start as he was, because Cartman never asked him about the dorm request either.

 

The universe had a sense of humor, however, and the two ended up in the same class—only one, some required first year writing class. It was weird, he had seen Cartman only a week and a half earlier back in South Park at Stan’s going away party, but his eyes were practically bulging out in shock when he saw his familiar figure waltzing through the door frame. Everything was all new and fresh and strange and here was Cartman, eyeing him. Kyle practically shrunk into himself, suddenly exposed and ashamed at the winter hat shoved over his ears—because they both knew it was way too hot in this Oregon weather for it when they were used to South Park conditions, they both knew exactly why he was wearing it.

 

Kyle shut his eyes, tight, waiting for Cartman to bust out laughing, to call attention to the sweat on his brow to the whole class, but instead was greeted with nothing. When he opened his eyes, he was seated a couple desks away, shrugging his backpack off with little preamble.

 

The moment Cartman walked in and their eyes met was the only contact they had that day, and Kyle couldn't help but feel a little relieved. Cartman was obnoxious, the kind of obnoxious that drew attention to him and his compatriots, and he hardly wanted an association between them to be people’s first impression of him. Craig had once said something about why people at school didn't like their little group—something about them being assholes, something about them not learning from their mistakes, he wasn't really listening at the time—and he was determined to be someone people enjoyed speaking with at this school at least. Maybe, that was would be easier without Cartman.

 

And it seemed that, for whatever reason, Cartman felt the same.

 

Probably thought Kyle wasn't cool enough for him or something.

 

Turning over a new leaf,

that's what they called it, right?

 

Kyle tried his best to be  likeable, laughed at other people’s jokes, listened when they wanted him to listen, swallowed down any foul-mouthed outburst he had tugging at his lips. Who knew making new friends was so easy? He had a little study group already—it was only a few weeks into the quarter so the workload wasn't too bad but they could still revise each other’s assignments—and everyone was nice enough, funny enough, shared gripes and groans about adjusting to college life.

 

They were seated in the cafeteria—Kyle couldn't help but think it was a terrible place to study but didn't want to be the only one unhappy with it—when Cartman sat down a few seats away. Despite the complete lack of correspondence between the two, Kyle couldn't help the way his attention was always drawn to him like a magnet, like he couldn't concentrate for more than five minutes without checking on what Cartman could possibly be up to. He chalked it up to just learned survival skills from years of his bad behavior.

 

“Isn’t that Eric from our class?” Kyle jumped as the girl to his right spoke up: Kelly, the normal type of girl-next-door pretty, left handed, already wanted to change dormmates. He briefly wondered if people saw him the same way—Kyle, that homely kid, from the middle of buttfuck nowhere, who never takes off his hat. “Should we invite him over?”

 

Kyle can't object, has no reason to, but he still sits there with his mouth open like a dead fish.

 

“Can we not?” Kyle’s attention snaps to the responding voice, Jack, born and raised in Eugene who he has two classes with. “He’s kind of… Uh, obnoxious.”

 

Kyle had used the same exact word to describe Cartman himself, yet here it is hitting him like a punch to the gut.

 

“Yeah,” another girl in his group, Monica, laughs a little, leaning forward conspiratorially. “He thinks he's really funny, but I feel he's just one of those people that has to hear himself talk all the time.”

 

It’s not wrong, Kyle knows it isn't wrong and he would've told this to Cartman’s face a month ago without pause, but hearing it from these people—these people that are strangers to Cartman, people who haven't spent every morning at that bus stop next to him—has the breath stolen from his lungs, guilt and anger churning in the pit of his stomach.

 

That anger erupts like a volcano, face steaming and fists clenched. “Shut up, you don't know a single fucking thing about Eric Cartman!” His voice squeaks on the swear and usually he hates that his voice still does that sometimes, usually it'd have him red-faced and feeling the urge to never talk again, but it doesn't cower him this time. “He’s my friend!” The anger leaves heat burning away in cheeks, in his ears, along the collar of his shirt, disappearing under the edge of his hat. He's looking at all of them and then he's suddenly looking at none of them, gaze cast down to regard the fries he no longer wants to eat.

 

There's a very obvious silence in the wake of his words, no one sure just how to react to that outburst.

 

It's Monica who speaks first.

 

“Sorry, Kyle, I didn't realize you knew him…”

 

Someone else chimes in.

 

“Yeah, I've never seen you say a single word to him, so…”

 

It’s an apology, an explanation, but it rings like an accusation in his ears. He forces the corners of his mouth up in a forgiving smile even as the yoke of regret settles heavily around his shoulders.

 

It's the next day, students shoving their notebooks and laptops into their backpacks at the end of their writing class, that Kyle is standing in front of Cartman’s desk, all nervous energy despite his talking to his childhood friend almost everyday of his K-12 life. “Cartman. Hey.” One of his straps is slipping and he readjusts it with the shrug of one shoulder. “Do you want to get coffee or something?”

 

Cartman is, of course, as insufferable as ever and made Kyle see red three times on the ten minute walk to his favorite cafe. But Cartman doesn't shrink and stare in shock when he spits out sworn insults like he had joined the navy and Kyle hasn't felt more at home since his parents drove away at the end of orientation weekend.

 

“You really haven't decided on a major?” Cartman is doing that thing he does when he raises his eyebrows and opens his eyes wide like he has just experienced the most inconceivable thing to ever cross his path.

 

“Fuck off, it's like Week 3 of our freshman year.” Usually that look would piss him off, make him feel little and stupid, but instead just being able to recognize an expression as familiar has him fighting a relieved chuckle despite himself.

 

“You picked a college halfway across the country without knowing what you wanted to do?” Maybe Cartman felt the same way, Kyle was pretty sure he could see the hint of a smirk under his tsk-ing. “Surprisingly ballsy for you.”

 

“Okay then, if you're so sure, what’s your plan?”

 

“Business major.”

 

Kyle can't hold it in any longer and he laughs despite himself, “of-FUCKING-course!”

 

“I think you’d do good in accounting, you should look into that.”

 

Kyle’s laughter cut off and he shot the other a level glare, reconsidering his idea to show Cartman his favorite coffee shop. “Because I’m Jewish!?”

 

“Oh, no, Kyle, come on. You did the accounting for one of my schemes way back when and I merely remember you being good at it.” Cartman’s face was the perfect picture of surprised innocence, and more so than before Kyle knew he was completely full of it. Seconds later it melted into amusement, because if there was one thing he thought was funny, it was his own jokes, “also, because you’re Jewish.”

 

“And you’re a complete bastard. Still.” He wasn’t really sure how comfortable he should be with this, but there was something reassuring about being twelve hundred miles away from South Park, yet still putting up with Cartman being a complete ass about his heritage. It was the sort of situation that would make him consider the possibility of fate, the possibility of human bonds that transcend all likelihood—or at least would if it wasn’t for the fact he didn’t want to consider the universe tying him together with Cartman of all people.

 

It was a good hour later, the two of them sitting around a table and Kyle’s mug of coffee emptied, that he broaches the subject.

 

“You didn’t contact me at all since we both got here.” It spills out suddenly, almost sounding like an accusation in its clumsy wording. He winces. “What’s with that?”

 

Cartman looks as startled as Kyle feels, and Kyle can tell he’s buying time when he takes a drink from his cup, pauses for a few moments to set it down on the table between them. “Oh, you know, didn’t want some lame, small-town ginger cramping my style.”

 

He snorts derisively in response. He knows Cartman—not entirely, of course, but enough—to be able to tell sometimes when the other was lying. Or maybe he was just naturally suspicious of every claim that left his lips.

 

Either way.

 

“No, really. I’m serious.”

 

“I don’t think you’re unaware of this, Kyle, but you are seriously ginger.” Despite him sticking with his first claim, Kyle sees a flash of consideration in his features, a moment of vulnerability where he could tell Eric Cartman was questioning himself and that was somewhat horrifying of a thought. “That first day of class, I saw the way you looked at me.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he spoke, avoiding eye contact. “It was like… I was the worst person you could imagine coming through that door, you looked terrified. And I kind of just thought, ‘well, okay’.”

 

Kyle’s throat is suddenly dry, swallowing down some strange mixture of regret and fondness and confusion. “I’m a dick.” He groans, leaning back in his chair and pressing the heel of his hands hard into his eyes. “God, I’m a huge dick.” And here, without having to look at anyone, white fuzzies dancing across his vision, he feels like he can speak. “I felt— there’s stuff about myself I wanted to leave behind in South Park because it’s… there’s stuff I don’t like about— about me, and you know me so well that I felt like you would see through it instantly and call my bluff and then everyone would know—”

 

It’s a lot, it’s too much for him to admit, dredging up insecurities from the depths into the shallows where they threaten to suffocate him, but then there’s something he swears he feels—a touch on his arm—and it’s a lifeboat for a second. He’s moving his hands and opening his eyes and the fleeting contact is already gone and he would be questioning if it even happened at all if it wasn’t for the stilling movement of Cartman pulling back, the nerves where they touched tingling. Kyle senses that he’s practically gaping at the guy, staring like he’s something wondrous, and he can’t steel that expression.

 

“It’s okay,” Cartman says, and Kyle doesn’t know what’s okay even as he knows he needed to hear that, “I understand. I have things I didn’t want to bring with me.” And then he’s grinning, that same cocky asshole grin Kyle’s seen a million times, and it feels like Cartman is pulling him into that life boat with him, like he’s has something tangible beneath him again. “Not that much, of course, because I’m already pretty perfect as is. But you? Yeah, I can see you having a lot to work on.”

 

It’s a joke at his expense but there’s no real bite to it. Cartman could lay out all that Kyle revealed on the table between them, pick it apart with trained hands, expose his insecurities to the light and see what part of Kyle breaks first.

 

Cartman does none of that.

 

“I see you’ve decided to still be an asshole, at least.” He shoots back, but he’s lifting an empty mug to his lips to mime the motion of drinking, disguising a smile he can’t wipe off his face.

 

  
  


 

 

**Author's Note:**

> AhhhhHHHHHHH
> 
> I'm really into Kyman right now and had a lot of ideas for a fic so idk this might end up kind of long.
> 
> I'm really terrible at doing tags and stuff, sorry. Also, I'm not that polished at writing so sorry for that, too.


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